man to lose his heart, longer than it takes a woman.”
“Perhaps.” Kate straightened her spine. “But he plans to return to his regiment when he’s settled this problem. I won’t see him for a year or more if he goes on campaign. How likely is love to grow then?”
“My husband was at sea for most of our marriage. Our love did grow.”
“Did he love you before he left?” Kate nodded when Cora just bit her lip. “I don’t blame him. He can’t make himself love me, any more than I can make myself stop loving him. It would be so much easier if I could. We would enjoy a peaceful marriage of convenience and live our lives as amiable companions. Instead . . .” She brushed her hands over her skirt. “I was a fool to marry him. It would have been better to marry someone I cared little for, or not at all.”
“Don’t say that!” Cora’s voice was suddenly fierce. “It was a risk, yes; but not a foolish one. He cares for you—how many loves grow from care and familiarity? At least you still have the chance of it.” Her voice broke. “I had six months with my love, and now he’s dead and gone forever.”
A hot rush of shame burned Kate’s face. How selfish she was, moping because her husband didn’t love her. He did care for her. He was a better husband than most women hoped for. And Cora, who had once had what Kate longed for, had lost it irrevocably. “You’re right,” she said at once. “Forgive me; you are too kind to me, indulging my melancholy . . .”
“No.” Cora swiped at her eyes and summoned a determined smile. “In your shoes I would feel the same. You deserve love. Don’t give up on the captain yet.”
Kate walked home in a pensive mood. Was she sorry she’d married Gerard? Not when he was near. No matter how much she tried to tamp it down, the hope of his feelings deepening still lingered, fanned a little brighter by Cora’s words. But that didn’t mean she knew what to do. Without the distraction of his presence, she could see how very different they were. She was content to be quietly at home or with a few friends, while he had to be out doing something vigorous or dangerous. Once he rejoined his regiment, this would be her life: worrying about him, waiting for infrequent letters that might never come, fading back into her quiet, solitary ways.
Her mother called almost as soon as she reached home. Kate welcomed her in a subdued voice, which Mama’s keen eye noted at once. “Darling, you look ill,” was her pronouncement.
“I’m well, Mama. Will you take some tea?”
She let Kate fill her cup. “I don’t think Bath agrees with you. Really, you looked feverish when I first arrived, and now your cheeks are as pale as frost.”
“It has nothing to do with Bath.” Kate stirred her tea, wishing she could add a drop of brandy to it. Her mother would take that as a sign of fatal illness, unfortunately.
“It must. This city doesn’t suit me, either. Too close to the river, most likely. I’ve never been so unwell in my life. In fact, I came to tell you I’m returning to Cobham.” Mama managed to look beautiful even as she claimed to be ill. “You should come with me.”
She didn’t want to go. Mama had purchased Cobham after Kate’s father’s death, as their family home was too small and dark for Mama’s taste. At Cobham there would be nothing to do but endure her mother’s self-absorbed flights of fancy and musings on all her own failings. “I cannot leave Bath, Mama. What would my husband say?”
“Has he returned?” Mama opened her eyes wide and looked around. “I thought he left town several days ago.”
“He’ll be home soon.”
“Oh, my dear . . .” Mama put down her teacup and looked dismayed. “All men stray sooner or later,” she said gently. “It’s only a matter of time, and once he’d got your fortune . . . You know that, Katherine.”
“He is away on business.” Kate’s face felt hot.
“Yes, they always say so. You mustn’t blame yourself, dear.”
“Mama,” she said plaintively. “Please.”
“Oh, Katherine.” Her mother’s eyes welled up. “I only wish to help you, but if you don’t want my advice, I shall do my best to suffer for you in silence. Have some compassion. I’ve had the most dreadful headaches in this town.